


in a land of gods and monsters (i found you)

by lqbys



Category: Vikings (TV)
Genre: Gyda my sweet child how i miss u, Hair Braiding, Haircuts, Homesickness, M/M, Medieval fluff, Sea-longing, no beta we die like men
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-01
Updated: 2019-05-01
Packaged: 2020-02-15 18:35:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,961
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18675205
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lqbys/pseuds/lqbys
Summary: Blue. Ubbe's eyes were so, so blue- different than his own, or his brother's, or his mother's. Than anyone's. A blue he'd never seen.





	in a land of gods and monsters (i found you)

**Author's Note:**

> how many fucking times will alfred booty-call ubbe until this thick-headed viking GETS it. oh well whatevs have this fluffy thing i wrote in like 1h instead

Alfred did not know why he had agreed to the odd request. He was King- and Kings only demanded, never negotiated. But lately, he had often come to the realization that in the privacy of his quarters where he existed in the same space as Ubbe, he had no desire to be King. 

Therefore, this happened. He had asked the Norseman to cut his hair for him, but Ubbe laid out one single condition to the table before agreeing. 

He wanted to braid the King's hair like their people did.

Alfred had looked at him for a long second, speechless. "Very well." 

There was no rational reason behind this. 

Alfred did not like long hair, but he liked the idea of having his hair done the way they-- the _pagans_ \-- did. Even in battle, they wore fancy and elegant braids, hair neatly tied so it would not bother them. Ever since granting free use of his palace to Lagertha, Bjorn, Ubbe and Torvi, he enjoyed seeing the two women present to court with their hair braided differently each passing day. It was lovely indeed. Alfred would not admit it out loud, but he was quite delighted to know he would at least once experiment those interesting haircuts himself. 

Ubbe was silent as his fingers braided his hair with precise skill. 

Alfred could not help but wonder. "Did you use to do this often?" 

"Yes," Ubbe answered, a spark of nostalgia slipping in his voice as he spoke. "Used to do my brothers and my Mother's hair. I learnt from Father many, many years ago." 

From his Father- Ragnar Lothbrok. Each time he heard the name, Alfred never failed to feel a thrill of elation course through him. The more he learnt about him, the thicker mysteries gradually got around the man. 

The most dangerous man in the world- the most dreaded warrior, bravest sailor, about whom people told gruesome tales of murders, most awful killings, spoke of as the devil himself- King Ragnar Lothbrok, teaching his young boys how to braid hair. Alfred was stunned into silence for a short while. How. . . odd, yet utterly fascinating.

A particurally tight pull of his hair forced him back into his mind: Alfred winced a little. Though he did not complain, Ubbe immediately whispered sorry. Alfred imagined him younger and feral, pulling at his brothers' hair tight and not caring a bit if he hurt them- or was he gentle, kind? 

"Gyda." Ubbe murmured the name like it belonged to a distant friend, his voice suddenly full of longing for a home that was perhaps forever lost. "Father told me he learnt how to braid for his very first child-- my half-sister, Gyda. Fever took her long before my birth."

Ubbe stopped, but opened is mouth again soon, as if he were remembering something important that had slipped from his mind.

"Ragnar often said he’d never love us little shits as much as he loved his baby girl," he continued, little smile that could be heard in his voice. "The priest, your... _father_ , held her dearly in his heart. They were close. Ragnar lost both of them to avoidable mistakes.” 

Alfred listened with most attentive ears. He wished he could do something to ease the ache in this man's heart. The ridiculous thought of holding his hand crossed his mind like lightning, but it vanished as soon as it formed. Nonetheless-- Alfred nodded, understanding. The mention of his own father did not move him. Nowadays, it rather left him indifferent, the name Aethelstan like a sour taste in his mouth after all these years of Grandfather and Mother telling glorious things about him, how much of a saint and holy man he was- how Alfred looked just like him, handsome in the simplest ways, same wisdom and shimmer to their smart eyes. It had gotten repetitive, annoying. Still, Gyda. . . he'd remember the sweet girl's name for the strange connection they shared. 

"Would you teach me?" he asked, voice low and gentle.

Ubbe's laugh, rich and so sudden, made him almost jump as it filled the space around them. "Why would a King know how to braid?" 

"Why not!" Alfred's outrage wasn't really serious, but the question was genuine as red began to color his cheeks. "A King must be master of all." 

"You're cutting your hair anyway," Ubbe said, snorting. "Why'd you care about braiding? You people don't even grow your hair that long."

Alfred pondered shortly, though the answer was evident. "To braid my daughter's hair one day, perhaps." 

Ubbe did not question further. He finished his work in silence, and Alfred felt himself relax rather quick. Ubbe's hands on his scalp felt greater than he would have ever imagined- massaging delicately, braiding with care, so far away from the man who slaughtered so many Christians not long ago. Alfred should not find the Norseman's presence so peaceful, nor get too comfortable around him, yet- here they were. Ubbe was a Christian, after all. 

When he was done, Ubbe moved to face him. 

"Well," Alfred pressed, "I want to see." 

Ubbe considered for a moment. "No," he smirked.

Alfred's breath hitched. "Why not." 

There was a silence after that, as Ubbe kept observing him with a strange glint to eyes.

Blue. Ubbe's eyes were so, so blue- different than his own, or his brother's, or his mother's. Than anyone's. 

A blue from so far away, bright, lucid, holding a whole strange world in them. Blue like the ocean on summer's finest days. Alfred didn't think a blue like that existed until there were swords clashing and men dying horrible deaths all around and his eyes met those of a pagan drenched in blood and grinning like a mad-man. 

Alfred was fascinated, as his grandfather had been- perhaps even more so than the late Ecbert. There was something to these men and women- this one in particular, but Alfred was sure the special interest his heart seems to grown for Ubbe could be justified simply, for he was a fellow Christian and close to his own age on top of all. Something to the fake idols they worshipped and their strange behavior that interested him in many ways. And Ubbe. . . 

"Alfred." 

Alfred blinked. Ubbe's face was inches from his own, studying him with careful curiosity and a touch of. . . what- appetite? Heavens. 

"I said why are you doing this?" 

The young king quickly shook himself out of his stupor. His knuckles gripped the armchairs a little too tightly as he replied with a hoarse voice, "I am not sure I have an answer for this, Ubbe." 

The sun shone brightly today, and there the Norseman stood- bathing in light, blue eyes striking, unnerving. Ubbe did not look real. Ethereal, out of place with his strange outfit, hair matted in one single long braid. Unshaved. The cross of Christ hanging on his chest, its silver glowing. 

"Mirror," he breathed out at last.

Ubbe handed him one with elegant woodwork, surely fetched from his own quarters. Alfred could not hide his surprise- he liked it. He very much liked it, and found himself imagining wearing his hair like this as he sat upon the throne. The look on his mother's face! The whispers of the court! Alfred smiled to himself. Then, new images manifesting behind his lids that made breath catch in his throat.

Himself, clad in traditional Northern armor, blood-tainted axe in each hand, hair neatly tied in exquisite braids, roaring as he fought-- alongside Ubbe.

 _Christ._

"Cut it all off, Ubbe." he bit sharply.

Ubbe seemed surprised by the sudden harshness of his voice and the grim expression on the young king's face, though it did not last. Alfred did not miss the smirk on the Norseman's lips as he bowed either.

Strong hands found his scalp again as they undid every braid slowly. Alfred felt a pang of guilt, but he did not apologize. 

"Do Mother's hair, sometimes," he mused, quite unsure of what he meant. Thank you, perhaps, but. . . "She would find it lovely. You are talented at. . . braiding." 

Ubbe hummed to himself and they fell back into silence.

Alfred only opened his eyes when he felt his hair back to its usual curly waves, free. 

"Your Grace." 

He tilted his head backwards. From the corner of his eyes, Alfred caught the glimpse of a sharp blade in the pagan's right hand, hovering over his head like a threat. Suddenly, Alfred became very aware of how terrible of a situation it was for a King to be, particles exploding in his veins as his heart pumped adrenaline through his whole body. 

Ubbe could slice his throat just like that. 

The blade caught sunlight again as Ubbe moved his hand. Alfred's heart jumped to his throat but there were certainly no need to panic-- no need at all. Ubbe would never do this. To kill his King-- to kill his King, as a Christian . . . That would be the most despicable, damnable doing.

Ubbe's voice was smooth as velvet and many sinful things Alfred did not wish to think about. "Do you still wish still to pursue, Your Grace?" 

Alfred felt warmth spread through his being. He did not like being asked again, but he refrained from snapping again- only sighed. "Do it." 

The Norseman nodded his head briefly, tiny smile playing on the edges of his lips.

Alfred hoped he was not mocking him- though he soon found himself smiling too, whatever the reason. Ubbe worked efficiently and quickly, cutting long black locks until there was but short strands of hair remaining on his head. Alfred felt more and more at peace seeing hair gather at his feet, as if he were doing the right thing. He never much liked the long curls the way his mother did or his grandfather wore, but he let hair grow anyhow for their sake. 

"Done." 

Alfred was eager to know the results. "How does it look?" 

Ubbe moved past the great chair, then stood in front of him to judge his work as he did earlier. Alfred was not self-conscious, rather confident of his looks and attractive features, but under the intense gaze of Ubbe, he felt flustered, anticipating the words that would fall from the Norseman's lips. Would short hair suit him? Did he make a mistake, asking a warrior to do a master's work? Ubbe, at last, grinned. 

"I told you I was damn good at any work so long as it involved blades." 

Alfred could contain his grin no longer. "Let me see." 

"No." He shook his head, crossing arms over his chest. "Not allowed to see this time, King." 

"Is that so?" 

Alfred was rather amused. He stood slowly as he ran a hand through his short black hair. How strange- surely he would get used to the feeling soon. Ubbe watched him, thoughtful, knife still in his hands as he traced its edges slightly with his thumb. Alfred felt chills rise along his spine thinking of what might have happened if things had turned out differently- Ubbe's blade so close to his throat.

The trust he put into this Norseman, this stranger who caused so much pain to his fellow Englishmen-- to their sacred faith. Now a Christian, but was he truly when he spoke with such tenderness and longing of Kattegat, his family? Would he leave, given to return the great city with no fear for his life?

Alfred dearly hoped he would not. 

He straightened his back, and offered a genuine smile he could so rarely offer to those hostile lords of his grim court. 

"Thank you, my friend." 

He barely got a smile in return, but Ubbe's blue eyes shone very brightly- honest. Warm. 

"My pleasure, Your Grace."


End file.
